


Emotional Addictions

by Hashtagmavin



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Emotions as drugs AU, M/M, drug use?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2013-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-02 22:25:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hashtagmavin/pseuds/Hashtagmavin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You’re not supposed to fall in love with your drug dealer. Especially when those drugs are emotions, and love is something you’re supposed to inject in order to feel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emotional Addictions

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at Hashtagmavin.tumblr.com  
> Prompt: AU where emotions are sold as drugs illegally. Gavin is a dealer and Michael is addicted to rage.

A world without emotions was peaceful. Calming. Quiet. Everything was in order and people got into trouble less.

Michael Jones hated it.

It was boring. Dull. It showed how pointless life really was. As though it were a movie. The first half bright, colorful, and exciting. Then the second half being reduced to grainy olden times black and white.

You can still feel things such as confusion, concern, and annoyance. But they’re still hidden behind an overwhelming heap of monotone and unwilled nonchalance. It’s only when you take emotional drugs that these feelings are enhanced and more visible.

Basic emotions such as anger, happiness, fear, sadness, etc, are no longer allowed. Michael was too young to remember what the process was of them being taken away, and everybody refuses to talk about it. The subject is so taboo that it almost doesn’t exist. They continue on acting as though emotions have never been a natural human mannerism.

But just because nobody talks about it, doesn’t mean that they’re gone.

You can still illegally buy those feelings in sketchy back alleys and dark street corners. They’re basically drugs now. Things people used before (like heroin, cocaine, and meth) were easily replaced with happiness, fear, anger, etc. What was the point in doing traditional drugs if you didn’t even have the emotions to enjoy them with?

Michael Jones loved rage.

He can still remember the first time he tried it at a friend’s house when he was a teenager. But that’s usually how all addictions start, right? A couple of friends peer-pressuring you while you repeat the words, “ _I don’t know…_ " a few times. Then finally you give in and you decide that it’s the best decision that you’ve ever made.

He remembers the first few times he would constantly state, “Just once more” before doing it again. At this point he’s probably addicted but he just can’t find it within himself to give a shit.

The only downside to emotions are the minor side effects and it’s lack of legality. Also the fact that they’re incredibly addictive.

Michael knows a large selection of sellers and where to find them. He usually buys from this one guy on Queen’s Street. The dealer is always high off of depression and will sometimes accidentally give him more than what he’s paid for.

But then he finds out that his dealer’s been arrested, and even though Michael doesn’t know the details, he figures it would be a lot safer if he doesn’t go back to buy from him. He might not have even been taken in for selling/taking emotions, but Michael’s not willing to risk getting tangled up with the police in any way, shape, or form.

His friend Ray tells him where he can find a guy. He actually knows him through a friend and apparently his prices are tolerable. Usually emotional drugs are very expensive, especially when you’re buying from a new dealer for the first time.

Ray’s never led him astray before. He doesn’t do emotions himself but has a lot of friends that do, so his connections are pretty secure.

It doesn’t take him very long to find the guy. He’s in the dark and empty alleyway behind an old apartment building, just like Ray said he would.

“‘Ello there,” he greets, his voice noticeably more cheery and friendly than Michael expected. He notes the British accent and wonders if this is actually the guy he’s looking for.

"You sell?"

"Yeah, what’s your poison?" the boy questions, a smile graces his face and Michael knows it’s probably because he’s high on some kind of positive emotion.

His tone makes him sound like some kind of rookie amateur, but his straight to business conversation proves that he’s been doing this for a while. Michael knows the signs of a good dealer, and first impressions are imperative.

The dark environment makes it almost difficult to see his face, but he isn’t wearing some kind of baggy black hoodie like most of the dealers he goes to. If Michael were a cop he wouldn't suspect him or be suspicious. He just looks like any other person on the street. Maybe a little more like a member of that British pop band One Direction, but still not attention catching.

"Rage."

The guy quirks an eyebrow, “Are you sure? I’ve never had it before, but I hear it’s pretty powerful stuff.”

Michael rolls his eyes, his face remaining neutral, “Should I go to another dealer?”

He grins, “Nah, mate, I’ve got you covered.”

"What are you on right now?" he asks, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Happiness," the guy states as he digs in his pockets, "Sometimes I go for others but I always end up coming back to it."

"You addicted?"

He shrugs, “‘Dunno, maybe. But not like I’m complaining.”

Michael’s impressed by this guy’s openness. But he’s never actually seen the guy sober so it could just be the drugs making him more confident and friendly. He’s not used to emotion dealers being so kind. Not even dealers that are high on happiness or any other positive emotions. Usually they’re trying their hardest to be threatening or intimidating.

The dealer finally digs out a small bottle, filled almost completely with a bright red liquid. The color is familiar to Michael’s eyes, and just seeing it makes him want to reach out and grab the thing from his hands.

"Don’t have any pills on me," he sounds apologetic, "You a shooter?"

Michael can only assume that the term refers to somebody that gets high by syringe and needle. He’s always been a bigger fan of injecting emotions because it felt so much better. He could feel the anger pulsing through his veins immediately and the reaction felt like it was amplified by one hundred. Swallowing or snorting pills felt so dim in comparison after he started using needles. Besides, liquid was always a few dollars cheaper.

"Yeah."

"Perfect! Me too!" the man smiles, his eyes warm with joy. His eyelids are slightly drooping and he looks dead tired, which is the only proof that he’s starting to lose his high.

"How much?"

"Five pounds."

"You’re in America, shithead. We don’t have pounds here."

"Oh, my bad," he laughs, "I meant eight dollars."

Michael quickly pays him, and the guy doesn’t even bother checking to make sure that he’s given him the right amount.

"What’s your name?"

"Michael."

"Real name?" the guy seems impressed, "Mighty trusting of you."

"How do you know for sure that it’s my real name?"

He shrugs with a smile, “I can just tell that you’re a really trustworthy person.”

"I’m in a dark alley in the middle of the night, illegally buying emotions from a complete stranger. How am I trustworthy?"

"You just are and I know it." he nods with satisfaction, "But let’s  _not_  be strangers. I’m Gavin.”

Michael’s suddenly very hesitant to trust this guy. He’s been odd right from the start and although it should be off putting, he feels almost welcomed by it at the same time.

"You’re incredibly intoxicated," he points out, ignoring the hand that Gavin’s holding out for an introduction shake.

"Nope," he beams, "I’m just naturally like this. Ya’know, other than the whole emotion part. Sober-Gavin is a lot like happy-Gavin."

"So you’re naturally trusting of any person that comes to buy drugs from you?"

"Not every person. Just you." he shrugs carelessly, "Besides, I’m starting to lose my buzz anyways."

Michael’s noticed throughout their conversation that his smiles don’t quite reach his eyes anymore. His face is becoming more relaxed and monotone, especially compared to how expressive and upbeat it was earlier.

People lose their highs in different ways. Some lose it instantaneously, like a light switch turning off. Other’s feel it slowly fade away from them. Both are equally terrible and leave you desperate for more. Gavin seems to have a small mix of the two.

"Whatever," he murmurs with the roll of his eyes, turning away to leave, "Thanks."

"No problem, Michael." Gavin chuckles, waving goodbye to him even though he’s already walking away.

*

Gavin quickly became his regular dealer. Instead of going to others in the area, he always found himself wanting to go back to buy from the weird British guy.

Of course, this meant listening to him talk endlessly about pointless subjects during the exchange. He’d giggle, make dumb jokes, and stupid squeaking noises. But Michael couldn’t really find it in himself to actually hate the guy for it. Sure, it was annoying, but Gavin was nice overall. It was better than going to an asshole dealer that would try to overprice him.

Gavin wasn’t always high during their encounters though. He was right about the fact that he’s the same while sober. Other than oozing happiness and joy, which is obviously only due to his emotion usage, he’s still just as friendly and trusting towards Michael as he was when they first met.

It reached a point where sometimes he would stick around more after he purchased his usual. Usually he’d buy more than one bottle at a time when going to other dealers, but with Gavin he didn’t feel the need to stockpile. He liked coming back whenever he wanted a fix and started liking the interaction more and more.

"What do you do while high?" Gavin asks him one day.

"I usually just play video games and scream at them," he responds, "Frustrating shit that makes the rage feel more… personal, ya’know?"

"Yeah, I do the same. If you want we can go back up to my apartment and play together." he offers.

And despite Michael’s better judgement, he accepts.

It ends up being a good idea because they both find benefits in it. Gavin finds amusement in being an annoying asshole during video games, and it adds more fuel to Michael’s rage. Overall, it ends up heightening their highs.

Usually it ends with them having a few bruises and broken glass because of Michael’s violent tendencies while intoxicated, but Gavin never seems to care. He knows the effects of rage and doesn’t mind it regardless.

It becomes a regular thing. Instead of just buying drugs from Gavin in the usual back alley, he’ll actually just go to his house. They’ve become something like friends even though most of their interactions revolve around illegal emotion usage.

But that’s everything about them, right? Gavin’s the happy one, Michael’s the angry one. It fits them well, even to the point where it’s surprising to see the other one with no intent to use.

This continues on for months. So long that eventually neither of them can really remember exactly when it began.

They slowly find out more about one another and become closer because of it. One would say that it’s dangerous to get so friendly with your drug dealer, but their situation is dangerous to begin with. Emotions are illegal and the consequences of being caught doing it are heinous.

Sure, Gavin is an annoying prick even when off of drugs, but it’s all in good fun. It’s like they’re playing off of each other in a way that both of them can get the most out of their emotion.

Michael often throws things at the guy, yelling profanities, and screaming at the top of his lungs. As they start getting closer he tries his hardest to refrain from actually physically hurting Gavin, and soon less bruises and injuries are gracing the dealer’s skin. Not like Gavin would ever complain about it if it didn’t stop though.

Without even realizing it their friendship has stemmed into something more than just casual meet ups. They hang out at Gavin’s even though they aren’t in the mood to do any emotions.

Ever since emotions became illegal, it’s been almost impossible for people to have and hold actual friendships and relationships, but since the two are constantly on them when together, their closeness came easily.

They even started to become more than friendly with one another. Michael doesn’t mind when Gavin rests his legs in his lap while they’re sitting down on the couch. Gavin doesn’t comment on Michael’s arm being around his shoulders or his hand resting on his knee. Just dumb things that they’ll do while high that always goes left unsaid.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Gavin!" he screeches, wanting to throw his controller across the room, "I want to rip your fucking stupid head off!"  


Gavin just responds by clutching his stomach in silent laughter. Tears are streaming down his face and the only noise he’s making are these amusing squeaks.

"Was that really fucking necessary!? Would you like it if the next time I came over to your house I poured lava everywhere? Take your damn lava bucket and shove it up your stupid British asshole!"

They’ve recently discovered that playing Minecraft is amazing. It gives Gavin the opportunity to mess with Michael’s character and his house, plus the excitement that rises in him when he finds diamond.

Michael has a tendency to not notice creepers until they’ve exploded and murdered him. Plus he still doesn’t have a big grasp on the game or how it works yet so it just leads to more rage fueling frustration.

"Do you have work tomorrow?" Gavin asks after he catches his breath from his laughing attack and wipes the tears from his eyes.

"No, why?" Michael’s teeth are still gritted and he’s glaring at the screen. His Minecraft house is almost completely submerged in flames at this point.

"Because instead of leaving you could just stay. We’ll pull an all nighter and get totally wasted the entire time." he suggests, his eyes widening mischievously at the thought.

"You’re already _way_ past wasted,” Michael points out with a roll of his eyes.

"Well what if we use ones other than happiness and rage." he suggests, then starts whining playfully while practically hanging off of him, "Come on, Michael! Let’s have a sleepover!"

"What could we do?"

"Anything. Do you seriously doubt how much I have in stock?"

He’s seen Gavin’s collection before and has been present during drug deals with some of his other clients.

"I hate you and your smug fucking attitude so goddamn much." He’s constantly swearing while on rage, but he can feel himself already starting to lose his high. He’s grasping at straws to keep the anger and frustration within him.

Gavin just smirks, “So whaddya’ say? You’ve never spent the night even though you spend almost all of your free time over here.”

"Are you complaining about that?" he raises a threatening brow at the boy.

"No, no! I happen to love your company. So much that I want you to stay all night!"

"Fine, I’ll stay. But I’m not sleeping on the fucking couch."

"Deal," he grins, holding out his hands for an agreement shake. Michael ignores it much like he did when they first met.

"What emotion do you suggest we do?"

Gavin thinks for a few moments, dramatically putting his hand up to his chin in a comedic fashion. That bastard never loses his happiness as quickly as Michael seems to lose his rage.

"I do have some love here, if that tickles your fancy."

"Love?" Michael questions. He’s familiar with the emotion and it’s side effects, but has never found any reason to try it out himself. "Isn’t that dangerous to mix with other emotions?"

Gavin shrugs, a mischievous smirk plastered across his still buzzed face, “You gotta live life dangerously ever once in a while, Michael Jones.”

It doesn’t take much convincing, and their naked between the bed sheets before they’re even feeling the full effects of the emotion.

*

Usually the morning after a heavy dosage of mixed emotions, one feels sick or incredibly tired. Michael’s side effects usually consist of violent vomiting, a searing headache, and stomach pains.

But as he lays here in bed with Gavin, he doesn’t feel any of that. He studies the sleeping boy, who’s face is pressed up against his naked chest in the most unflattering way possible. His heavy breathing is just further proof of how deep of a sleep he’s in, and it’s obvious he’ll be out for a while longer.

The tiny white scars on his face are more noticeable in the morning light that shines through the window. Most of their encounters are at night, so he’s never been able to see these features on his face. Whenever he comes over to his house, the only source of light is the dim glow from the television screen. And it’s not like he actually pays attention much to Gavin’s face then because he’s too busy screaming in anger and trying to rip the controller in half.

There’s small white scar that looks like his nose was scratched, and then another one that reaches from the right hand side of his bottom lip to his chin. Something that Michael never would have noticed if it weren’t for his random craving to learn everything about the boy.

He wonders if Gavin’s ever gotten beaten or threatened before. Maybe those scars are the result of that. He doesn’t know much about drug dealers, but that’s something that happens, right? He can’t imagine Gavin being able to survive the consequences of one of his more aggressive clients being denied their fix.

He’s been with him a few times during other drug deals. Watched the people that buy stock from him and how they look like they could snap Gavin like a twig. But Gavin acts so different around them than he does with Michael. He’s serious and intimidating, just the way he holds his ground gives off this air that he isn’t a force to be messed with. Maybe Michael’s just been underestimating him this entire time, or maybe Gavin really did just like and trust him for the moment they first met.

He has the sudden desire to protect the guy from those people. To hold him like this everyday and make sure that nobody harms him. Emotion dealing is dangerous work, and Michael has no idea how Gavin’s done it for so long without getting seriously injured.

There’s something so pure about him when he’s like this. Just splayed out, only blankets to cover his naked shoulders, softy snoring without a care in the world. He’s so thin and small, nothing intimidating or scary about him when he’s just sleeping. Like a fussy and loud toddler that’s finally settled down for a nap.

He reaches out and moves a loose hair that was in front of Gavin’s closed eyes. The way his fingers move so gently as though the boy is going to break under his touch.

Why is he focused so much on him? He should be getting up, getting dressed, and going back to his own apartment, but he can’t find it in himself to actually do any of those things. He just wants to sit here and watch him sleep forever.

Maybe he’s just bored.

That’s what life is always like whenever he isn’t high off of some kind of emotion. Just boring. Everybody is the same. No difference in people’s faces as they walk by. No sounds of loud children, arguments, or laughter to fill the air. He can only briefly remember what emotions were like when he was a child. Before they became illegal and dark alleys were the only way to ever feel alive again.

He remembers begging his mother to take him to the playground, her playful ‘Hmm, I don’t know. Have you been a good little boy lately?’

And his energetic bouncing as he’d yell, ‘Yes! Yes! I’ve been good! I want to go to the playground!’

 _'Please_?’

'Please!'

And then she’d smile and scoop him up in her arms. Attacking his cheeks with kisses and the sweet sound of her laughter would fill the air. He remembers running around the playground, the genuine joy he would feel in his heart as he’d go down the slide or across the monkey bars. The hugs and kisses his parents would give him when they tucked him in at night and said “I love you,” before turning off the lights.

He’s missed it.

But somehow Gavin’s brought it back.

He’s baffled as to how he’s feeling it without the effects of drugs. How he can feel the tiniest amounts of actual joy pour into his brain at the very idea of Gavin Free the drug dealer being with him. It makes him want to pull the boy closer and and bury his face into his hair. Let the nondosed happiness fill him to the brim and drown in it. Just laugh as loud as he can and giddily jump on the bed like he did when he was just a younger.

He actually feels happy. Like,  _actual_  happiness. Not just the kind Gavin sells and often partakes in himself. But his brain is actually buzzing at the feeling of his arms around his sleeping partner.

Gavin’s own personal favorite had always been happiness. Out of the vast selection of emotions he could choose from he, for some reason, settles with that. The most cliche and standard emotion there was. It was the drug they would use as an example on commercials designed to warn children about the danger of emotions. “ _Remember, kids, say no to drugs. You don’t need happiness in order to live a successful life_ ,” the monotone announcer would state, almost as though he were brainwashed.

But as he stares at Gavin, it’s like he’s feeling it all over again. The rush of

being happy and overjoyed. The few times he’s had the feeling in a needle and injected it into his skin. It would remind him of those happy times when he still had natural emotions. As an innocent and carefree child you don’t feel much besides happiness and the occasional anger when you’d be refused a toy you wanted.

He liked happiness, but rage was still his drug of choice.

He liked rage just because it gave him the opportunity to feel all of the pent up frustration that he didn’t know was bottled up inside of him. Almost as if it was buried deep in the back of his brain with other hidden emotions, but more dominant and determined to make itself known. Rage was a good emotion because while on the outside he was screaming, throwing things, and cursing up a storm; on the inside he finally felt like himself. As though getting angry like this was just something his mind craved. The ability to let out those hidden feelings.

Like when somebody is a complete asshole to him for no reason, and at the time he has no emotional response to it because he’s completely sober. But then when he’s back at Gavin’s, a needle injecting the liquid emotion into his arm and a giggling idiot by his side, he’s able to bitch about it and call out the guy for being a piece of shit even though he’s no longer there. It’s almost as though his brain is comfortable with being angry.

But isn’t that one of the biggest signs of addiction? Wanting to constantly be on a drug and not feeling complete unless you’re intoxicated?

"Hello there," Gavin mumbles, his eyes hardly opened enough to see out of. His voice pulls Michael from his thoughts and he raises an eyebrow at the still sleepy boy.

"Hey, you’re awake?"

"Not really. I just want to sleep forever."

"Gonna have to get up at some point," Michael smiles.

He’s actually smiling. It isn’t a forced or empty action. Talking to Gavin as he’s still only half asleep is amusing and adorable. He wants to laugh.

Gavin raises an eyebrow in suspicion, “You seem awfully happy.”

Michael rolls his eyes but doesn’t attempt to wipe the smile off of his face, “I didn’t steal anything, moron.”

Gavin narrows his eyes but soon relents and closes them, “I don’t even care if you did. I feel like we’ve reached a point in our relationship where you can have some access to free emotions if you want. Fuck it, I don’t care. It’s not like I don’t dip into my own stock constantly.”

"Good to know, but I actually didn’t take anything." he smirks, ruffling Gavin’s hair.

He opens his eyes again, letting Michael play with his hair without comment. The confused and suspicious look graces his face again. “Then how could you possibly be happy? I’ve seen how long emotions last for you, and besides, you didn’t even take any happiness last night.”

Michael just shrugs because, honestly, he doesn’t have an answer. He just feels happy, and that’s the only explanation he has.

_"What’s makes a person happy?"_

_When he was a child, back before emotions were even an issue up for debate, he remembers asking his mother that question._

_He’d only brought up it up because he’d overheard his father jokingly exclaiming “_ I’m so happy when I’m with you _,” while they were ball-dancing around the kitchen for fun. He liked when his parents were always happy and carefree like that. Now they’re just as emotionless and boring as everybody else._

_She tried her hardest to explain but he just couldn’t fully grasp the concept. “Lots of things can make you happy,” she’d said._

_Michael scrunched up his tiny freckled face in confusion, “What makes_ you _happy, mom?”_

_"You and your dad, of course."_

_"Why dad?"_

_"Because I love him, silly!" she kisses him on the nose but Michael refuses to let the subject go._

_"But_ why _?”_

_That causes her to stop and think for a few moments. He doesn’t interrupt her, not when she looks so deep in thought as she mulls over the reasonings. “I’m not sure,” she finally shrugs, “He makes me feel special. I can laugh and be myself whenever I’m with him. We don’t ever feel the need to hide anything or pretend to be something that we’re not because we trust one another. We can joke and make fun of each other without any feelings being hurt. Love isn’t really something that you can define but, when I’m with him, it feels like I’m living the definition.”_

_She chuckles at the confused look Michael gives her and kisses his forehead, “Maybe you’ll understand when your older.”_

And now he finally understands. Every single word she’s used is what goes through his head when he thinks about his drug dealer.

"Are you okay?" Gavin questions, finally opening up his eyes fully and lifting his head. He looks concerned and worried that there’s something wrong.

"Yeah, I’m uh…" Michael takes a deep breath, trying to piece all of this together, "I’m fine."

Does he love Gavin?

That doesn’t even make any sense. Love is an emotion, right? Nobody has naturally loved another person without the use of drugs in  _years_. It’s not physically possible. Emotions are just gone now and the only way to temporarily get them back is through shady and illegal drug uses.

Overall, an emotion might last a few hours if you’re lucky. The longest Michael’s gone on a non-stop high was four hours. But he and Gavin have slept in until the afternoon so it’d be impossible for him to still be feeling the effects of the love they took last night.

"Are you nauseous? I have some pain killers in the bathroom cabinet, they usually always help me whenever I’m feeling the more sickening side effects."

"No, I actually feel okay," he nods, becoming more confused when Gavin’s concerned words bring forth a fuzzy and warm feeling in his brain.

He reaches up and presses a firm kiss to Michael’s mouth. “You’re acting weird,” he murmurs.

"I  _feel_  weird.”

"Good weird or bad weird?"

"I think good."

"Well that’s  _good_ ,” Gavin smiles, and Michael quirks an eyebrow at it. Maybe he’s not just the only one feeling undosed happiness.

"You seem rather happy yourself," he points out.

Gavin’s eyes widen and the smile wipes off of his face, “Of course not. I only just woke up.”

"Gav?" Michael knows what he sounds like when he’s lying or trying to cover something up. But whether he’s this bad at hiding things around others or just Michael, he’ll never be certain. Being a good liar is a good trait for a drug dealer.

"What?"

Maybe this is just some weird side effect of love.

"Have you ever taken love before?" he asks, not wanting to start an argument when they’re both sober. Besides, who knows how easily this feeling of happiness could be washed away. It’s too nice to risk.

"No," Gavin responds easily.

"It’s like I’m still feeling the effects of it."

His eyes widen in amazement, “You too?”

Michael looks back at him with confusion, “You can still feel it?”

"Yeah…" he murmurs, "And I have no bloody idea why."

They stare at each other for a few moments, letting the silence fill the air. When he stares into Gavin’s eyes the happy feeling gets warmer and more settled into his mind. Like it’s trying to make a permanent home.

"It’s only when I’m thinking about you though. It’s like I’m on a million different drugs at once, like I’m on the verge of a positive overdose." Gavin tries to explain, "It’s like your a drug on it’s own that I’m more addicted to than any other emotion."

"Think it’s a side effect of love?"

"The happiness?"

"Yeah."

"I always feel happy around you," Gavin murmurs, "and I have no idea why."


End file.
